Music of the War and the Dance of Death
by ang3lm3l0dy
Summary: [AU]-This is the story of friends, family, siblings-especially siblings, caught in a war. This is a story of a pianist and a violinist. This is a story of the two girls who loved him the most.


"E- declared war on G- today."

That announcement changed everything.

One of the girls in the dance said, "All this fuss for nothing. What if there was a war there? I'm sure it wouldn't concern us."

"Before this war is over," he replied, "everyone would feel it. People will weep tears of blood because of it. The Piper has come—and he will go everywhere playing his dreadful but alluring music. It will be years before this is all over."

He never was the one to social gatherings, but his younger sister insisted in going. Their parents were worried, and had him chaperone her.

Ever since that announcement, most girls felt that the best of the evening was over. His sister, Nathalie, included.

"Tired?" he asked her.

"Enjolras," she said timidly, "this war won't matter much to us here, would it?"

"Matter? Of course it would matter."

"I don't see why we should fight their battles! It's their war! Not ours!"

"That isn't the point, Nathalie," he replied, "We are part of their empire. We've got to help."

* * *

"Nathalie, what are you thinking of?"

"Everything has changed, Enjolras. Just a week ago we were happy—oh, so happy—but now, now I can't find me—I'm lost."

"I'm afraid our old world's destroyed. We must learn to face that fact."

"It's so terrible to think of you, going."

"You know?" Enjolras asked.

"Yes," answered Nathalie chokingly.

"We didn't want you to know till the evening was over. Little sister, I have to go. You know that."

"There are plenty—without you," she sobs.

"That is _not_ the point, Nathalie."

"You—may be," she took a deep breath, "_killed_."

"You must be brave to help me, Nathalie," he realized how important this little sister of his is. "Right now, I'm exalted. But there will be times where I will need your help."

"When do you go?" she asks, in between the sobs.

"Not for a week."

* * *

Nathalie did not sleep that night. Enjolras knows that. It was because of the music, the sound. Nathalie, in her room, played her piano, pouring out her pain, her sadness. She was also humming to the same tune.

Enjolras doesn't know the title of the piece, but it was something that made him think of the time they were younger, the time they went a bit in the woods, the time he saw the beauty of spring, the harshness of winter, the time he doesn't see the world as he does now, and the time he first heard Ѐponine play the violin.

Ѐponine wasn't one of the manse children. She was an orphan, abused. She had the courage to run away, and that's when the manse children, Cosette, Azelma, Jean, and Courfeyrac Fauchelevent found her. They decided to keep her in as a 'help.' And she became friends with them, and the Goodman children too—he, Enjolras and his sister, Nathalie.

One day, Nathalie invited the girls at their home. He figured they had a jolly time, by the laughter he could hear. He wanted to go over and knock then tell them to 'keep it down.' But to whatever reason, he decided to wait. When the laughter died down a bit, Nathalie's piano-playing could be heard.

Then suddenly, the distinct playing of violin could be heard. Nathalie _does_ have a violin, but she doesn't use it, because she loves the piano and she loves playing it; she also doesn't know how to use a violin. So he was filled with surprise when he heard it. He went to Nathalie's room, listened with the others, watching Ѐponine and Nathalie's duet. He was very much surprised to hear this orphan, from an asylum, abused and maltreated, play a violin.

As Enjolras slowly went back from the past, he remembered the tune Nathalie was playing is the one she plays now. He realized, how different Nathalie and Ѐponine plays. Nathalie plays calmly and peacefully, but with every bitterness and pain, humiliation and sadness, with it. As if she was trying to hide her ache under the tranquility of her playing. Ѐponine, one the other hand, plays dark and frantic, releasing all her frustrations in the bow and string. They play differently, yet there was something in both of them that feels the same way.

* * *

"Nathalie."

She looks behind, to see her brother on the door.

"Yes?" she asks, as she wipes her tears. "Is there something I could do to help you?"

"I can't sleep. Are you crying?"

"'I guess I just have to stop playing the piano and—"

"No. You could play the piano if you want to. I mean—I want you to. But if you don't want to…"

"Thank you." She starts playing the piano again, the same tune, over and over again.

Enjolras closes his eyes, absorbing the music, trying to understand the message behind this sad, sad music.

"When I'm there, Nathalie," he speaks, "when I'm at that hell created by people in this earth, I would hold on to you. I will not be afraid, never, for you. Because I know, I know you're mine, Nathalie, _my_ Nathalie, _my_ little sister—no matter what happens."

Nathalie repressed a sigh and a tear, but she could not repress the shiver that followed.

"When this war is over and done," he continues, "the gang and I would march back here and we would be happy again."

"We'll never be happy—not in the same way, at least."

"No, not in the same way. Everyone that has been marked by this war will never be happy again in the same way."

She bit her lip, she couldn't repress the tears anymore.

When she cried again, Enjolras knew he has gone too far. He tried to change the topic.

"It's the women who suffer most in this war. Men give themselves, women give them. Do you have any beaus? Tell me, little sister, before I go."

"I…" she closed her eyes a bit. "I don't." she said. "But if…Henri _wanted_ me too…"

"And Henri's in khaki too. Poor girl, you're enduring much more than I thought then. Well I'm glad I'm not leaving any girl with heartache…"

He saw Nathalie's eyes dart to a lighted window at the manse on the hill. He also looked, realizing whose room it was: Ѐponine.

* * *

Today was the day he was to go, to say goodbye—to his family, to his friends, to the place, to everyone and everything.

They were at the train station. Everybody was smiling or was trying to smile, with the exception of his mom, who was being hysteric.

His mother was crying, repeatedly, "Our first-born child! Our first-born! Could I do this?"

He steps towards his mom, hugs her.

"I'll be alright, mother." He kisses her on the cheek. "I'll be alright."

"Be well, lad." His father pats him on the arm softly, eyes shining proud.

He leaves his parents—his father trying to calm his mother—and moves on to the people of the manse. Cosette and Azelma weren't there. They were acting as volunteer nurses. Jean has gone ahead of him, and Courfeyrac was saying to him right now, "Tell the lads to lighten up. In just one year I'll be coming!"

He smiles at him.

"Goodbye, Enjolras." The raspy voice of Ѐponine. "Be careful."

She expected him to say goodbye, or ignore her like he used to. Instead, he kisses her. Many who saw viewed it as comradely kiss. Because seriously? A boy who was never known to court anyone?

"I will," he tells her. "But when I get back, I'll finish my studies and try to…" he whispers the rest to Ѐponine.

She reddens, just a bit, then looks up to him and smiles. "Thank you." She said.

And so he zeroes last to his beloved little sister, Nathalie. Nathalie always hated him, because he was an attention getter. He always was the one their mother was so proud of. But now, she would be his strength—this little sister of his.

The train is about to go. He has to hurry up. He holds her head with both his hands. "Be strong, Nathalie."

"I always will be."

"I love you."

"I know."

"Be careful?"

"Say that to you."

"That's my little girl." He pats her on the head.

Someone was shouting "All aboard!" So he hops on the train.

"God bless you, Nathalie. God bless, everyone," he smiles as he watches them disappear, little by little, by his sight.

Before they thoroughly disappear from his sight, he sees that Ѐponine and Nathalie has stood side by side each other.

"May God guide you—all of you." He whispers as the train slowly takes the bend in the road.

* * *

_**AUTHOR'S NOTES**_

Pardon me for the extreme OOC, and wrong verb tenses. I don't know what I'm writing, but it's based on the brother-sis relationship of Rilla and Walter Blythe. Eponine wasn't really on the story (I'm sorry!). I don't even know why the title was that.


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